


full marks

by 37564



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Consensual Underage Sex, Deepthroating, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27395218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/37564/pseuds/37564
Summary: Wilbur grins at him once more, his hair slightly disheveled, and lips glossy from spit. Tommy's spit, oh god. “If you finish all of this, you're going to get more than kisses,” he offers, lips curling upwards further.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot/TommyInnit
Comments: 57
Kudos: 622





	full marks

“Come on, Tommy,” Wilbur says, his fingers tapping against Tommy’s desk. “Your mum’s rearranged the schedule, you know. I'm not getting paid unless you learn something.”

Tommy’s usual clutter has been shoved into his unmade bed to make way for textbooks and notebooks, which prove to be of no help as Tommy draws circles in the corners of his notes. Tommy doesn't really care about algebra or any of the fancy-schmancy theories made by Greeks, he's more interested in booting up his computer to slack off on whatever game's going to keep him occupied.

Unfortunately, Wilbur was having none of it, which was annoying.

He likes Wilbur better than any of the other tutors his Mum’s hired for him; Wilbur likes the same video games Tommy does, lets him take breaks whenever he can't focus properly, helps him out instead of leaving his brain to melt trying to solve scenarios related to physics. Wilbur doesn't get mad if he gets a question wrong, Wilbur doesn't shout at him if he can't focus on the task at hand.

Well, he supposes even the nicest of people like Wilbur get tired, too. He feels a tiny bit guilty that Wilbur’s genuinely trying his best for him, for him to learn and get full marks, but it's not Tommy's fault his brain just… refuses to focus on the words printed on paper. It's nothing like his best friend’s dyslexia—he knows they're there, he knows what the word means, he just can't bring himself to process those words when he's not in the mood.

Wilbur sighs, deep and heavy, as Tommy digs his pencil into the paper hard enough for it to tear through. He tries not to showcase how his shoulders seize up at the obvious disappointment from someone he's enjoyed being around, instead, he keeps his head down and digs his pencil deeper until he's sure it's scratching against the wood beneath the paper.

“Tommy,” Wilbur says, this time much sharper and less lenient.

“What?” Tommy mumbles. He's tried his best for today, he really has. It's not his fault his brain won't let him focus on things he's supposed to be focusing on—Wilbur used to understand that, so why doesn't he now?

He tries not to jolt as Wilbur nudges his shoulder gently. “It's okay,” Wilbur says, but his reassurance sounds nothing like the way he had said Tommy’s name seconds earlier. It settles in Tommy's gut, an embodiment of unease and anxiety.

He doesn't want to disappoint Wilbur.

“I'm sorry,” Tommy says, dropping his pencil. He brings his knees up to his chest, letting out a deep exhale at himself — he just wants to make it easier for both of them. “I just. Don't fucking know what to do. I can't bring myself to remember this shit.”

Wilbur’s hand settles on Tommy's arm, squeezing lightly. He smiles softly, but it just looks like he's annoyed at Tommy. “That's fine.”

Tommy resists the urge to roll his eyes and shout. “No, it's not.”

A silence falls upon them, tense, uncomfortable, and unbearable to Tommy. He avoids sharing eye contact with Wilbur, keeps his eyes on the unfinished papers on his desk.

“We can take a few minutes to play some games then,” Wilbur says, shifting the topic over. He gestures towards Tommy’s nerf guns propped up on a shelf like a trophy—they might as well be one. A simple promise to spend a day hanging out with him outside of tutoring was the only good enough motive for Tommy to aim for full marks.

“Or,”—Wilbur’s smile morphs into a grin—“we could try a different way of learning.”

All of a sudden, the hand on Tommy's arm moves to cup his jaw to tilt his head. It all happens too quickly for Tommy to process what happened; all he knows is he's so, so close to Wilbur’s space and that he can taste the tea his Mum had offered Wilbur when he arrived on his lips. Every part of his brain has stopped functioning properly.

When Wilbur pulls away, it's quite crystal clear what had just occurred.

Tommy brings his hands to his face on instinct. His ears are buzzing, every part of his exposed skin feeling white-hot. “You—” All the words are stuck in his throat. “We just. You. Holy shit. What?”

Wilbur is completely unphased; he shrugs and reaches to grab at Tommy’s cheek. How the hell was he keeping his cool? “If you answer A1 to A4, I'll give you another,” Wilbur says, even chuckling at the end as he poked his fingers into Tommy's cheek.

There is not a single word in Tommy's brain to explain the giddy embarrassment surging throughout him right now.

He reaches once more for his pencil and scoots his chair into the desk. It takes him a moment to figure out how to solve the first equation, his notebooks covered in a messy chicken scratch of his calculations. After he's double-checked his first answer, it's easier to continue onto the second—Wilbur’s eyes are on him, a reminder of his reward.

He almost feels too needy, too desperate with how he's trying to solve the equations as fast as his brain can compute. Wilbur’s right there, right next to him, watching over him. His heartbeat thrums in his ears, his cheeks burning hot.

“Done,” Tommy says a little too loudly, a little too breathlessly. The way Wilbur chuckles at his expression makes him shrink as Wilbur reaches for the paper to check it himself. When their hands brush together, Tommy swallows hard.

Tommy ends up antsy as Wilbur hums, examining his answers. It's nerve-racking and he's just on the verge of bouncing off his bedroom walls—oh, God, what would happen to their next tutoring session? What if Wilbur was just messing with him, what if Wilbur was just using this as a way to get him to do work without actually caring for…

“Good work, kid,” Wilbur says, snapping Tommy out of his thoughts. One more second of staring at him and Tommy would start dissipating. “I guess I'll give you the reward you deserve."

And then Wilbur reaches forward, his fingers entangling with strands of Tommy’s hair as he presses his lips against his.

It's clear Wilbur’s done this before: he runs his tongue against Tommy's teeth, swallows all of Tommy’s awkward squeaks, leaves Tommy weak in the knees and melting. It's so much more than Tommy's seen in pornos or from what his mates at school tell him about.

It's almost like Wilbur has full control over him, just from one hard kiss that's left him weak.

When they pull apart, Tommy goes stock-still. His thoughts are running through his head at incomprehensible speeds, all full of Wilbur, Wilbur’s lips, and how his mum could've walked in on them at any moment. His heart thumps so loud in his ears that it sounds like an alarm blaring.

Wilbur grins at him once more, his hair slightly disheveled, and lips glossy from spit. Tommy's spit, oh god. “If you finish all of this, you're going to get more than kisses,” he offers, lips curling upwards further.

Tommy scrambles for his pencil immediately.

> **later**

Adrenaline and the promise keep his focus. Wilbur helps him at some points where he ends up frustrated to the point he wants to give up, which leaves Tommy thinking: would Wilbur help him if he didn't want to go further with Tommy as well?

Wilbur ended up touchier, more hungry as Tommy solved everything he had to. His hands traveled under his shirt, his teeth grazing against his skin, his mouth whispering praises and words of encouragement to keep him going. _Remember the reward, Tommy_ , he'd whisper as Tommy tried so desperately to focus on utilizing set theory. _Think of what you could get from me_.

When he finally finishes double-checking the final question, it's almost unreal. His senses are suddenly all on edge; he can hear their breaths, feel Wilbur hovering beside him, taste Wilbur on his tongue just from earlier.

“Ah, you're done,” Wilbur states. He runs a hand through his hair to sweep his hair out of his face, then his hand settles at the back of Tommy’s neck, his fingers pressing lightly.

He leans in for another kiss, this time much softer than the last reward. It's a lazy, languid kiss, but oh, does it still leave Tommy as lightheaded as all the others.

Wilbur laughs when he pulls away. “You're so red,” he teases. “So, so red. Have you never been kissed before?”

It takes a few moments for Tommy to realize he needs to reply. “Uh. I have. I've kissed lots of women. A shit ton.” He looks away, pursing his lips together. Out of all people, he'd never admit he's only kissed Toby when they were younger. “All my girl schoolmates love me, y’know.”

“Aw,” Wilbur says, hand on Tommy’s neck going up to scratch at his head. He tilts his head in amusement when Tommy shudders at the touch. “I wanted to be your first, too. Curse you and your charisma, Tommy.”

Oh. Tommy feels kind of bad, actually.

“You can still be my first,” he blurts out, voice cracking. Stupid, stupid, stupid voice. Wilbur’s suddenly locked onto him, eyebrows cocked in interest. “I, uh, haven't had sex yet. I've just kissed girls. Yep.”

“Is that so,” Wilbur says, more of a statement rather than a question, but Tommy nods sheepishly anyway. He's looking around the room for some reason, and Tommy starts to think maybe Wilbur’s avoiding his gaze or something until Wilbur stands up and locks Tommy's door.

Something inside Tommy stirs at the sound of the lock. He feels strangely small, tinier in comparison from his seat as Wilbur strides back to him, but doesn't sit down in the chair next to Tommy's.

Instead, Wilbur gets on his knees.

“Push your chair out of the desk,” he says, his large hands feeling like they're branding themselves through the fabric of Tommy’s jeans. Was he…? “I can't fit under there, you know.”

Tommy swallows hard and does as he's told, rearranging himself until Wilbur’s right in between his legs, looking up at him with an amused expression. “I’ve never gotten a blowjob before.”

“Don't worry,” Wilbur says, another one of his heartthrobs laughs following after. His hand goes to squeeze Tommy’s half-hard cock through his jeans, and he laughs louder when Tommy gasps at the touch. “I'll make it good for you.”

His heart is beating out of his chest as Wilbur slides his zipper down, painfully slow that it stops for a split-second against every teeth. Once it's fully unzipped, Wilbur looks back up at him—and Tommy’s not actually sure what Wilbur wants him to do, or if there was some sort of ritual all the other blowjob-ees were doing.

Tommy glances to the side, feeling awkward and too inexperienced.

“Lift your ass up, idiot,” Wilbur finally says, fingers at the waistline of his pants. He tugs them down as far as he can with Tommy being seated as an example of what he wants, and all of a sudden it makes sudden sense.

“Oh,” comes out of Tommy’s mouth. “Okay.” He raises his hips high enough for Wilbur to finally get him to shimmy out of his jeans; when Wilbur’s fingertips graze against his bare thighs, he feels his blood rush downwards. It's too surreal for him.

Wilbur drags down the waistline of his boxers, his fingers wrapping around Tommy’s cock. Just looking at Wilbur’s fingers around his cock makes his dick twitch; his hands are those of an older man, much more masculine, much better looking than Tommy's own. Wilbur laughs at him when he feels Tommy’s dick twitch once more, but Tommy’s too overwhelmed to even bark back at him for it.

It's even more overwhelming when Wilbur gets his mouth around Tommy’s cock.

He doesn't even know how to describe it. Wilbur’s mouth is so, so warm, with his tongue working its way under the head of his cock. The sensation leaves him almost disorientated, breathy gasps and moans spilling out of his mouth like an unstable rhythm.

“Fuck,” Tommy hisses out, his fingers digging into the armrests of his chair. He feels incapable of voicing anything coherent. “Don't stop, don't stop, please.”

With each bob of Wilbur’s head, Tommy’s blood turns into lava. It's all so incredibly hot—all he can focus on is the way his dick scrapes against the back of Wilbur’s mouth, the way Wilbur’s tongue knows exactly where to be.

His hips start chasing after Wilbur’s mouth. It builds up in his thighs, leaving Tommy just on the verge of orgasm. Tommy's voice has gone as high-pitched as it can go, loud moans mixing in with grunts of Wilbur's name and swears. He's so close, all he needs is another push—

—and just as Tommy nearly tips over the edge, Wilbur pulls off.

Tommy sobs, chest heaving. “Ah… fuck, why! I was just about to!”

Wilbur doesn't even look a single bit apologetic with how he's looking up at Tommy, smirking. “It's fun messing with you,” he says pointedly, then leans back in. With his eyes staring up at Tommy and his mouth right against Tommy’s cock, he says, “I'm sorry.”

And then he's back to his old pace, this time going deep enough that Tommy feels his cock push into Wilbur’s throat. The noises he's making are absolutely embarrassing and horrible, but oh god, if Wilbur’s mouth was heaven, then his throat must've been the land of gods.

He’s only reminded of the possibility of being caught when Wilbur pinches his thigh at one of Tommy's louder, shrill moans. He wants to snap that he can't help it that Wilbur’s mouth feels like he's found treasure, but all he can find himself babbling is Wilbur’s name, curses, and begs for Wilbur to keep going.

But like before, Wilbur pulls just when Tommy's nearly there. This time, his voice cracks as he says, “Fuck you,” and he wants to knee Wilbur for laughing at his misery.

“I thought you were giving me my reward, asshole,” Tommy says, irritated.

Wilbur blows hot air against Tommy’s cock and tilts his head inconspicuously. His fingers stay at the base of Tommy’s cock, wrapped in a grip that's too loose for Tommy to try to thrust into. “What's the fun in that? It took you an hour and a half to even do a single batch of questions, anyway.”

“You're a jerk.”

“I could take my leave and my money from your mum right now.”

When Tommy says nothing, Wilbur raises a brow in smugness. What an annoying asshole. “Checkmate.”

Tommy groans, hides his face in his hands, and sinks further down his seat. He feels too exposed with his cock out in Wilbur’s grasp, feels too embarrassed from how red his entire body has become. “Just shut up and get me off,” he snaps, syllables merging with one another in a plea. “ _Please_.”

“I never thought I'd ever see you beg in my life,” Wilbur muses aloud.

“ _Please_ ,” Tommy chokes out, looking through the gaps of his fingers. He's painfully hard; all he needs is Wilbur’s mouth, the heat, and tightness of his throat, back on him just for another moment. “Wilbur, please let me come. _Please._ ”

“Good boy.”

Wilbur goes back down on him, this time taking him completely, his nose digging into hair. Tommy chokes on his words, shuddering and letting out a guttural groan. It's so much better than just having Wilbur’s tongue around him—he can feel the way Wilbur’s throat contracts against the head of his cock, squeezing against it.

Once Wilbur starts moving, Tommy’s hand instinctively goes to latch onto Wilbur’s hair. “Just in… case you stop again,” he says breathlessly, moaning at the end just as his cock leaves and forces its way back down Wilbur’s throat once more.

“Wilbur,” Tommy cries out, fingers digging into Wilbur’s scalp. It must be painful for him, but with what he's getting, Tommy can't be bothered to care—all he can think of is finally getting his sweet release. “I'm about to—”

“ _Wilbur—_!”

He feels Wilbur try to pull back once more. Instead, Tommy yanks Wilbur’s head forward and uses his other hand to keep Wilbur’s shoulder in place, finally unraveling in Wilbur’s mouth. If Wilbur makes any noise of discomfort, Tommy's too distracted from coming down on the high of his most powerful orgasm in his life to notice it.

Tommy lets go of Wilbur’s hair once he's sure every last drop is in there, and slumps in his seat, panting. This felt nothing like Tommy's imagined in his head after watching porn. His head is spinning from the haze, but he's happily satiated.

Wilbur noticeably trembles when he pushes himself up off his knees—Tommy’s not particularly sure if it's because he's forced his cock down Wilbur’s throat one last time or if it's because he's got pins and needles in his legs, but he's feeling too disoriented to care about things like that. Or the fact Wilbur’s probably hard, too, and there's no way Tommy's going to return the favor.

For now, at least.

“Christ, Tommy,” Wilbur says, his voice a tad bit scratchy as he drops himself back in the seat next to Tommy. His hair’s obscuring most of his face, entirely Tommy's fault—however, Tommy's more focused on the way he wipes his saliva off his chin. “Warn a guy next time so I don't choke on your cum. I didn't even have the chance to spit.”

“My bad, Wilb—” Tommy freezes, eyes widening. He's suddenly snapped out of his post-orgasm haze, feeling like someone's slapped him. “Wait. Next time?”

Wilbur brushes his hair out of his face and huffs in amusement. “Well, how else will I get you to do your work?”

> **some time into the future**

“When… are we going to actually do it?” Tommy asks, arms locked around Wilbur’s neck. Part of him is full of anxiety—he’s completely naked on his bed, with Wilbur’s pants down, so there's no explanation if his family managed to unlock the door somehow.

Wilbur smears the lotion against the insides of Tommy’s thighs, lathering in a copious amount. “You sure your mum won't notice her fancy lotion gone?” he asks, maneuvering Tommy’s legs over his shoulders.

Tommy huffs in annoyance, frowning. He feels Wilbur’s cock line up against his thighs and Wilbur's hands urging Tommy to close his legs tighter. He does so anyway, then says, “You didn't answer my question.”

“You didn't”—Wilbur grunts with his first thrust—“answer mine, either.”

With each thrust, Wilbur’s cock barely grazes against Tommy’s own. He grits his teeth to hold back any alarming noises that could alert his family, breathing harshly instead. “She has, like, a hundred of these,” Tommy grits out, biting on his tongue to keep in a moan when Wilbur’s hand reaches to hold his hip hard enough to bruise. “Now answer mine.”

“Full marks,” Wilbur says a little breathlessly. Obvious perspiration leaves his hair clinging to his face, the tips of his ears bright red. “Five subjects. I want to see those perfects. Then… then I'm gonna ask your parents if we can study at my place, then I'm gonna screw your brains out as a reward. That's what you want, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tommy half-moans, back arching as Wilbur’s hands start stroking his cock. In his daze, he repeats it once more, much desperate: “Yeah.”

He was going to ace that shit, no matter how long it means he'd be studying daily.

**Author's Note:**

> woah tommy gets head  
> im on twt as @masakrz & my curiouscat is @massacres :]  
> edit: ask me to continue this or make a part 2 of this one more fucking time and i'll break your kneecaps don't test me. it's written like this for a reason y'all are getting mad fucking annoying.


End file.
